What The Eyes Don't See

7 | Long and Lonely Night

Hundreds of thoughts beleaguered Anay's mind all at once, but none of them seemed to make sense. It was a week after the ghastly incident at the café. As was expected, the news had hit the papers, with one report subtly referring to him in unflattering words:

Hemant Dahiya, the owner of The Brown Bun café, was the only casualty. Trapped under the debris of the first collapse, Dahiya, could not get himself out in time and bore the brunt of the fatal second collapse. He might have had a shot at survival if the last customer to leave the collapsing café, an able-bodied gentleman working at a nearby office, had managed to pull him out. Despite seeing Dahiya trapped under the rubble, the young man rushed out of the café without attempting to help. It is a stark reflection of the times we are living in that we cannot pause a moment to save someone even from a mortal peril.

Never cried in ages, that day Anay felt the tears flow down his cheeks. There it was, in black and white—how he had not rescued a man from his death, which, as the report seemed to suggest, was tantamount to murdering him. He rationalized it to himself that it was not true, and that was what Shanaya told him repeatedly on the phone as well, but he could not bear to stay unaffected by that guilt. It was a café he had visited often. He had seen that man on countless occasions, and probably even spoken to him at some point, and now his blood was on his hands.

That night, Hemant Dahiya was the subject of his nightmares. In the middle of the night, he saw the face of the man, at first smiling, and then rapidly convulsed with fear as he yelled, "Help me out of here!" The next instant, the face was smashed beyond recognition, and from that distorted mouth came accusatory words:

"You could have saved me but you didn't."

Anay woke up sweating and gasping. He could not stay in that bedroom; it was beginning to choke him. Kautuk was right about the loneliness. He went to the balcony and stood there smoking, gazing at the languorous waves of the sea in the distance. It was three-thirty in the morning. He had no courage to go back to that empty and dark bedroom. At least here in the balcony, he could see the outside world even though there was not a soul on the streets. It lent him a measure of comfort.

His mind raced to the things that were tormenting him. There was only thing he could think of—the invisible man who was stalking him. He shut his eyes and tried all he could to visualize the man. Had he seen anyone like that? Curly hair? Glasses? It wasn't a very unique description. Of course, on the streets out there, there were thousands of such men. But, try as he might, he could not think of ever having interacting with any such man in person.

There was another angle that he could pursue. Why could be the motive of such a thing? Perhaps it was all a huge conspiracy. That was his first thought. Maybe they were all in it—the lift-operator, the waiter, the dubbing studio assistant, even the peon Sudhir. They were all in cahoots and playing some trick on him. That seemed to be the only logical explanation. But why would anyone go to that extent? Was he such an important person that someone might hatch such a plot against him?

It was his fault too. He had not been active in his investigation yet. He didn't go back to the dubbing studio to check if there was someone else. Or check the camera in the conference room that day. Perhaps, he didn't have the courage to check for some reason. But the answer could emerge if he just made a small effort. So, that was what he resolved to do. He was a fighter. The next time anyone told him there was an invisible man near him, he would grab them by the neck and ask them more questions.

The cigarette butt burned out in his hand and he threw it away with a jerk and immediately lit up another. The night was pleasant. The cool breeze from the sea was one of its biggest advantages, as Renee had said, and it was all out in its full glory right now. He felt the breeze on him, letting him wash away his worries at least for the moment. It was such a beautiful night that he scolded himself for thinking of the unsavory elements of his life.

He forced himself to think of something pleasant. And he immediately knew what it was. The moment he closed his eyes, Shanaya's face danced in front of him. Would it be appropriate to send her a message at this hour? It was nearing four a.m. What if, in the slightest off-chance, she was awake and might chat with him? He did not have the courage to do that either, for he knew he'd regret such a thing in the morning. He decided to satisfy himself with her thoughts, aware that she was the only thing that made him truly happy at the moment.

He carried one of the four plastic chairs he had in his apartment into the balcony and sat on it. Gazing at the stars and the waves outside, he channeled his thoughts to the girl of his dreams. Would she be his? His mind went back to the kiss of his boyhood. Every tactile impulse of that touch came alive to him again. He felt her on his lips. He felt her in his groin. It was just like his school nights, when he would be on the bed of the room of his parents' house and let go of himself, fantasizing about her in various ways. Nothing had changed! Slowly, his fear and worry began to transform into pleasure. Yes, that was what he liked. Not the thoughts of stalkers and ghosts.

He wanted to prolong the moment. Slumping down in one chair, he propped up his legs on another and let his hand stray into his shorts. Powering his phone on with his other hand, he scrolled down her messages. The messages were innocuous little things, exchanged over the past few days that they had been in touch, but they were enough to set his lonely desires on the edge. There were the everyday hellos and goodnights, and he read their subtext, especially the goodnights. What might she be doing when typing those goodnights? Lying down on her bed, surely. What might she be wearing? Of course, lying on her bed typing that goodnight, it was he she was thinking of. He enlarged her display picture and looked at her lips. A moan escaped his lips as he could not control himself anymore.

He threw his head back as the big moment arrived. He shut his eyes, now bringing every detail of her face and body to his mind, rapidly breathing and muttering things like, "Shan, if you will be mine, I'll do so much for you, my love!" It was such a profound thought, such an ardent desire, that he actually felt for a moment that she had spoken to him.

No, not in that imagined vision. For real. He really felt the soft breath brushing against his neck and something whispered in his ears.

All at once, he stopped and opened his eyes.

It was just for a flash, but he saw something before it vanished into the night.

It had been standing over him, astride on him as he lay on the chairs, looming in the air, its face staring down at him as he had been jacking off.

Shocked to bits, Anay fell out of the chairs and passed out. That was where he stayed for the rest of that night.